Window to Danger (Danger Incorporated Book 7)

by Olivia Jaymes

  His finances weren’t anything out of the ordinary either. Trip, like many people, lived basically paycheck to paycheck with a mortgage he could barely afford, plus a hefty car payment on a pickup truck. He’d never been married and nothing in the charges on his credit card pointed to a current girlfriend.

  All in all? A bust. Trip Stanford was a normal, everyday, run of the mill guy. Except that he wasn’t really. He only appeared to be on paper. In real life, he was something far more sinister and deadly.

  Easton looked up at Zach, who was hovering nearby. “Please tell me you’re not done digging into this guy’s past. There has to be more than this.”

  Dizzy looked as disappointed as Easton felt. “I appreciate the work you did, Zach. But I have to admit that I was hoping you’d find something in his past that would help us. I guess will have to find another way.”

  Leann came to sit next to her friend. “They’re not stopping here. Jared is going to keep digging. They’ll find something.”

  “This just means that this was probably his first time,” Zach said. “He has no history of violence that we can find, so the good news is that the murder might not have been planned and that he’s not looking to continue. The last thing we need in Tremont after the high school reunion is another spree killer.”

  Easton tightened his hold on Dizzy’s hand. “Does that mean he’s less dangerous or more? If he’s never done this before he has to be scared and paranoid as hell. Then add in a witness neighbor and he has to be slowly losing his mind with worry and fear. When is he going to break and do something stupid?”

  “So far he doesn’t seem all that worried,” Dizzy reminded him. “He walked over here the night he did it, cool as you please. As long as the town thinks I’m eccentric and not to be believed, he feels safe.”

  Zach smiled and nodded. “And that’s exactly how we want him. Feeling comfortable and confident that he won’t get caught. He’s more likely to show his cards if he thinks nobody is looking at him. We just have to wait for him to make a mistake.”

  “What if he doesn’t?” Easton asked. This entire situation was fucked up and there was little he could do about it. He hated that he couldn’t fix this for Dizzy.

  “Jesus, think positive,” Zach replied grimly. “If he’s a rookie he might have made more than one mistake. Maybe he held onto the woman’s belongings. A lot of killers do as some sort of memento. It allows them to relive the moment over and over again. Or maybe he’s afraid to throw her things in the trash until everyone – including Dizzy – has moved on. Burying her on his property wasn’t the brightest idea so I don’t think this guy is a criminal mastermind.”

  “He might have buried her things with her body in the backyard,” Dizzy suggested. “That’s what I would do. Get rid of it all at once. Of course, I wouldn’t have chosen my own backyard.”

  Easton wouldn’t have chosen that either but his cousin West was always reminding them that criminals weren’t really all that smart or logical. If Trip had killed in a moment of high emotion, he wouldn’t have had a plan in place.

  “And that’s why we’re going to get him,” Zach stated. “It looks like he’s kept all the evidence close by.”

  “But right now we have nothing,” Dizzy said softly. “He might get away with this.”

  Leann pressed her lips together into a thin line. “We won’t let him. We’ll find a way.”

  “We will,” Easton said, hoping he sounded as sure as Leann. “Stanford will end up behind bars.”

  But the question was how? The cops didn’t believe them. They had no evidence, and no way to get any. Trip wasn’t going to just walk into the police station and confess, like in Zach’s case. Somehow he had to find a way to persuade the cops that Dizzy hadn’t been drunk or dreaming when she’d witnessed the murder. They needed to find enough cause for the cops to search Trip’s house a whole hell of a lot better than they had that first night. But how?

  * * *

  Dizzy breaded the chicken cutlets and popped them into the pan to sauté, then gave the boiling pasta a stir. She was making chicken parmesan while Easton stood in the doorway of her back porch glowering at Trip Stanford’s backyard, as if studying it for a long period would suddenly make everything clear and he’d know exactly what to do to put her neighbor behind bars.

  If only it were that simple. She, too, had stared at that same place over and over but no lightning bolt of inspiration ever arrived, only a mounting frustration that Trip just might get away with it.

  “It smells good in here.”

  He’d turned back to her although he’d left the door open, the rapidly cooling air beginning to make the kitchen chilly. Rubbing the goosebumps on her arms, she wiped her hands on a paper towel and then walked around him to close the door.

  “Thank you. It won’t be long before dinner is ready. You could open the wine if you like. I’m afraid I don’t have much of a selection. I’m more of a tequila girl when I drink.”

  Wincing, he must have realized he was cooling down the entire house. “Sorry, I was just–”

  “Watching and looking,” she finished for him. “I know. I do it too. I only closed the door because the temperature is dropping.”

  Easton shrugged awkwardly. “I don’t know what I think I’m going to see. I just keep looking at that damn flowerbed…”

  She retrieved a small spoon from the utensil drawer and dipped it into the sauce. “I know how you feel. I can’t help it either. Here, take a taste of the sauce and tell me what it needs.”

  She loved the way Easton’s eyes closed with pleasure as his lips wrapped around the spoon. Then he made a yummy sound that was music to her ears.

  “Honey, that’s amazing. I don’t think it needs anything.”

  Laughing, she reached for the salt and pepper. “I’ve barely seasoned it. It has to need something.”

  “Seriously, it’s fine the way it is.”

  Her hand hovered over the simmering sauce and she finally sighed and put down the shakers. “Okay, I’ll leave it the way it is. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving,” he declared, opening the refrigerator and reaching for a bottle of wine. “Where’s your opener?”

  With her free hand that wasn’t turning the cutlets, she fished out the corkscrew that was hiding under a ladle and a cheese grater. It only took him moments to open the wine and pour two glasses, placing them on the dinner table. This was a dinner for two as Leann and Zach had gone out to dinner and a movie. Leann had made a big production – wink wink, nudge nudge – about how they wouldn’t be home before eleven-thirty.

  Easton’s phone buzzed in his pocket for about the dozenth time in the last hour. He glanced at it but simply tucked it back in his shirt, not bothering to answer.

  “Someone really wants to talk to you. Maybe you should answer it.”

  “It’s not just one person, although most of the calls are from my second in command. They’re panicking because I’m not there but so far nothing has come up that can’t wait until tomorrow. Today has made me realize that I’ve been doing my staff a great disservice by never taking any time off. They’re smart and capable but I haven’t given them the opportunity to shine all on their own. Would you like me to set the table?”

  He could help her in the kitchen anytime. Was there anything sexier than a man with his sleeves rolled up helping do mundane domestic chores?

  “Yes, thank you. Dishes are in that cupboard to my right.” She placed the cutlets on a platter and laid cheese on top before slipping them into the oven. It would only take a minute or two for the cheese to melt and the oven was already hot from the garlic bread. “I think it’s nice that you’re giving your staff more responsibility. But it is probably scary for them.”

  She reached for the large pot of boiling pasta but Easton’s hands were there first. Standing behind her, his body close to her, she was reminded of how handsome and sexy he was, and how sweet and helpful. When he wanted to be.

  “Let me get this
for you. It’s heavy.”

  He gently nudged her out of the way and drained the noodles in the colander in the sink, steam billowing in the air along with the tempting aroma of tomatoes and garlic. She quickly filled their plates and they settled at the table, but there was an unspoken tension between them. She could practically feel Easton’s frustration and unhappiness as if it were a tangible item she could touch and see. By the end of the meal, she couldn’t take the silence any more. Men might not talk about their feelings but maybe with some encouragement this one would.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  His fork paused halfway to his mouth. “It?”

  “Yes, it. Whatever it is that’s pissing you off. I’m assuming it’s not me this time. Or is it?”

  Placing his fork on the edge of his plate, he wiped his hands on the napkin. “It’s not you. It’s just…”

  Dizzy didn’t say anything, simply waiting while he put his thoughts together. Pushing him wasn’t the way to go. It never was with an Anderson.

  “I can’t fix this for you,” he said after a long pause, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I’m not a cop like West or an ex-DEA agent like Jason or even a former bodyguard and soldier like Zach. I’m a guy who sits at a desk most of the time and that’s not what you need right now. I’m useless to you.”

  He really believed it too. Easton was one of the smartest men she knew, possibly the smartest, and he thought he was useless. Time to set him straight.

  She looked around the kitchen, twisting first left and then right in her chair for effect. “Funny, I don’t see anyone else here keeping me safe. I must have missed them. Are they upstairs taking a nap?”

  “Any guy could do this.”

  Standing, she pushed her chair back and then walked to the front door, opening it and checking outside. “I don’t see any of those men lining up to do the job. Looks like you’re the only one willing.”

  “Very funny. I’m being serious here.”

  She didn’t take her chair again, instead moving behind him and dropping a kiss on his cheek while her hands rested on his wide shoulders. Shoulders that had taken on the responsibility of this situation. He thought he had to solve this all by himself, but they were in this together.

  “So am I. It is not your job to fix all the little and big problems in my life. I’m a grown woman and I have to deal with this on my own. But I am glad that I have friends to help me because doing this alone would be difficult, if not impossible. Let me say this again in case I wasn’t clear…none of this is your responsibility and I’m grateful for all that you’ve done up to now. Technically if you hadn’t given Leann a ride here that night you wouldn’t be involved at all.”

  He didn’t turn to look at her, his gaze still directed toward his plate. “Is that what I am? A friend?”

  There was so much vulnerability in that simple question. And so much that he hadn’t asked.

  Out loud.

  It was up to her to answer. She could tell him he was only a friend but that wouldn’t be the truth. And one thing Dizzy felt strongly about was telling the truth even when it was hard or scary. Saying it terrified her. Their relationship had changed so much in the last week and she’d seen a side of Easton that she’d been unsure even existed. He was a friend but that wasn’t the end of it. He could be her lover…and maybe more. Did this relationship have staying power? Was he even in it for the long haul or for a few nights of pleasure? He’d never shown an interest in settling down.

  And neither have I, until now. Is that what I want? With him?

  Mustering all her courage, she ran her hands down his arms so their fingers were entwined and her chin was resting on his shoulder.

  “You are so much more to me than a friend, although I’m not sure I have the words to express what you are in my life. I just know that I want you here with me.”

  Easton wasn’t the flowery words type so she wasn’t sure how he would even respond. There was a small beat of silence and then his fingers tightened around her own.

  “Good, because that’s where I want to be.”

  For him, that was high praise indeed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‡

  Easton had been shooed out of the kitchen when it was time to do the dishes with some lame excuse that he was a guest so he didn’t have to help with housework. He’d made the counterargument that she’d done most of the cooking but one look at Dizzy’s cute but stubborn little chin and he’d clearly seen he wasn’t going to win. Instead, she’d ask him to light a fire in the fireplace as the temperature was dropping quickly.

  Stepping out onto the back porch to get an armload of wood, Easton stopped and stared at Stanford’s house. His gaze automatically went to that window where Dizzy had watched her neighbor strangle an unknown woman.

  An unknown woman.

  But she had to be known to someone. Surely family or friends had to be wondering where she was.

  Scooping up the firewood, he strode back into the kitchen where Dizzy was loading plates into the dishwasher.

  “I think we need to take a different route. If looking at Trip doesn’t get us anywhere maybe we should look at his victim.”

  Dizzy dried her hands on a dishtowel and seemed to weigh his words. “But we don’t know who she is.”

  “Somebody does and they miss her. Chances are she has friends and family, at least one if not the other. They might have filed a missing persons report when she disappeared and they couldn’t get in touch with her.”

  Dizzy smiled, renewed hope in her eyes. “That’s brilliant. We’ll get going on that tomorrow. Someone, somewhere has to be wondering where she is and what’s happened to her. You’re pretty brilliant, Easton Anderson.”

  He didn’t feel brilliant. It felt like he was finally making a contribution.

  “I think you’re giving me far too much credit but thank you. Now I better get that fire started, it’s freezing out there.”

  It didn’t take long to get the fire going as he’d done it a time or two hundred. He settled onto the floor next to the fireplace and stretched out his legs as he settled back onto an oversized cushion that he knew Dizzy had made with her own two hands. Splashed with color, it was like everything else in this room – comfortable and bright. A little like being with Dizzy. She made his usually gray world technicolor.

  It wasn’t that he was unhappy or depressed. That wasn’t it at all. But his life had fallen into a pattern these last few years. Work had become the be-all and end-all of his existence and like most things that he’d done for a long time, the newness has worn off. There was rarely a surprise, even when there were problems and issues to battle. There was hardly any challenge and it all felt a little too easy recently as if he’d done it all before and he was caught in the movie Groundhog Day.

  But with Dizzy, everything felt like the first time. It was the way she looked at life, so different from his own perspective. She had an artist’s eye and to her even the most mundane detail took on a completely different meaning.

  “I hope you’re still hungry.”

  Pulled from his thoughts, he saw Dizzy standing in front of him with an armload of food and a triumphant smile.

  “I’m pretty sure I see marshmallows. If you’re thinking s’mores you might be the most perfect woman on earth.”

  Dropping to her knees on the soft rug she dumped the food on the coffee table next to them. “Being perfect sounds awful. Who would want to be that? Everyone knows it’s the imperfections that make something or someone interesting.”

  Easton was beginning to believe that. He only hoped it worked in reverse too. Did Dizzy find his flaws fascinating or frustrating? In his experience, the women he’d dated all wanted to change him. Some in small ways and others wanted to completely make him over, but he’d never quite been good enough just the way he was.

  Dizzy had indeed brought the fixings for s’mores and she quickly slapped chocolate onto graham cracker squares while Easton slipped marshmal
lows onto long skewers. Handing one skewer to her, he held his up high over the warm flames, hating when they got too burnt. Dizzy, on the other hand, shoved hers right into the flames and then had to pull it out, blowing and giggling as she tried to extinguish the fire.

  Christ on a unicycle, they even roasted marshmallows the same way they lived. Him? Cautious and thoughtful. Dizzy? Full speed ahead and worry about the problems later. He could only wonder if everyone was like this. He made a mental note to check at the next Anderson bonfire.

  They smashed their marshmallows between the graham crackers and chocolate before taking a greedy bite. Eating a s’more was never an elegant or delicate activity. Dizzy had a dollop of chocolate at the corner of her mouth and he had a sudden urge to lean forward and lick it away, then head south to parts even more interesting.

  Never before had eating dessert been so…arousing. His palms were sweating, his heart racing, and his pants uncomfortably tight. It was like being a teenager all over again and he’d hated those adolescent years. Here he was, a grown man ten years Dizzy’s senior, and he didn’t know whether to kiss her or act like none of this affected him in the least.

  Their gazes locked and the room suddenly went from cozy to sauna-like in seconds, the fire way too hot. Her amber-colored eyes were dark with…desire? At some point their bodies had swayed closer until she was so near he could smell the delicate scent of her skin, creamy and soft and begging to be touched. Very slowly, so as not to break the spell, he gently wiped away the chocolate on her lip with his thumb, giving her ample time to move away before bringing it to his own mouth. The sweetness burst on his tongue and made him want to beg for more.